Shifting Perspectives
by Spaceseeker
Summary: Not everyone is happy about Rodney coming to work at Area 51. I guess this can be classified as a missing scene fic for The Return Part I and yes it is a Rodney whumper. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Not everyone is happy about Rodney coming to work at Area 51. I guess this can be classified as a missing scene fic for The Return Part I.

This is set during the six weeks Rodney spent on Earth. I was silly enough to comment to Sable that we wouldn't get more than fluffy fics about Carson and his turtles set in this six-week period. Not that I have anything against nice fluffy fics but I was desperate and craving some serious Rodney whumping. Next thing I knew there was a rabid plot bunny attached my neck much like an iratus bug. This is the result. It is Rodney centric with John and a sprinkle of Carson. Blame the damn plot bunny… and Sable – I do :-)

Contains spoilers for The Return Part I

Warning for language

I also discovered I can't write a threatening message to save my life. Oh the things we learn while writing fan fiction.

Thanks to my wonderful Beta Annie. All remaining errors are mine. And thanks to Sable for the inspiration and help with the finer plot details.

This story has been written - and I will be adding chapters as every few days as I squeeze in the time to correct mistakes my beta picked up while I'm writing the results section of my thesis - whumping Rodney is much more fun - but I dont think my supervisor would agree.

Note: Why did Woolsey single out McKay for a mention when he was telling Landry and John about the replicators coming to destroy Atlantis? Was he really trying to make Rodney feel better?

O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O

**Shifting Perspectives**

_Rodney was very aware of the moment when he lost his mind. He was aware that he was surrendering to fear and terror, aware that once he allowed himself to give up he might never be able to claw his way back to the light, to the rational world, to sanity. But after tottering on the brink for so long it was really only a matter of time before he let go._

_He had called out before hoping to be heard, yelled even, in his desperation, until his voice had begun to get hoarse. But now he screamed, he screamed ignoring the soreness in his throat, he screamed in terror and horror as he thrashed his body around in the small space. He allowed the fear to completely take over his mind. He lost control as he hit the metal with his feet, his knees, his shoulders, any part of his body that he could use to hammer and bang the inside of his prison. Time lost meaning as he was caught in a whirlpool of panic, there was no room, no escape as he spun in a sea of terror, until finally his mind, his precious brilliant mind, withdrew into itself to hide from the torment and only a shell remained._

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Rodney**

Rodney tugged up the roller door of his room in the storage facility and stepped in. It was quiet and musty – well, it had been a while since he was here. He ran his eye over the storage boxes. Now that he was back on Earth he would have to resurrect his life. If he took the position at Area 51, which was likely, he would have to get a place here in Nevada and move all this stuff. At least he didn't have to move it far.

He had just been to Area 51 where he met the current heads of the scientific research facility so he could have an overview of what work was currently being done. It had been confirmed yesterday that if he chose to accept the job, he could be heading up the research site and have his pick of projects. Rodney knew that it was a great offer and that it was in recognition for the work he had done on Atlantis. He should be thrilled to finally be achieving recognition from Stargate Command. He had no regrets leaving the payroll of the IOA, he rather liked the thought of working for Stargate Command directly.

However, he was finding it hard to be pleased about it. He missed Atlantis, and he missed the former inhabitants even more. He had tried, thus far unsuccessfully, to get hold of the ones who had come back to Earth. Sheppard was busy at the SGC heading up some new off world team and never seemed to be around. Carson had headed off to Scotland for a few days to visit family, and Elizabeth wasn't returning his calls. He hadn't even been able to get hold of Radek who was in the Czech Republic for a couple of weeks checking out a job at Masaryk University. Once Rodney was at Area 51 he planned to headhunt Radek, if it wasn't too late. He wanted to be with at least one of his friends. Or were they former friends? Time would tell.

He had made a trip out to the storage facility to collect a few essential items. Problem was he couldn't remember where they were. Rodney walked over to the nearest box. At least he had labelled them – or most of them. He had packed in a bit of a rush – packing really hadn't been high up on his priority list at the time.

He opened the nearest box. It was full of DVDs. He couldn't help looking through them. He spotted the Tardis box that housed part of his Doctor Who collection. Underneath that he saw his Batman DVD, he wondered if more of the old TV show had been released on DVD yet. Now that he was back he could buy stuff like that again. He would have to spend some quality time on Amazon. He reminded himself that there was a lot he could now do since he was home. It wasn't all bad.

He pulled an unlabelled box over and opened it. He found himself looking down on a model he had made many, many years ago. His own version of a Flux Capacitor. That's something Sheppard would never find out about. He made a mental note to hide the thing in a dark corner somewhere, then it occurred to him that he wouldn't be seeing Sheppard much, if at all any more. He felt a stab of pain deep inside his chest as he looked away.

The next box was one of many that were full of books. He made a little snorting sound as he spied Hawking's Brief History of Time, he would sure like to tell that man a thing or two, damn the classified information clause he had signed. His eyes caught his collection of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books. Now that was a funny read, probably exactly what he needed. Although at the moment he thought he would probably identify most with Marvin the depressed robot.

He hadn't even really said a proper goodbye to anyone – except Carson, and only because the man insisted. He particularly regretted not saying goodbye to Teyla and Ronon, he found himself really missing them. Rodney hated that he would never see them again. He hadn't known how to approach them to say goodbye – he hated that sort of thing, he had kept hoping they would come to him. Maybe they had tried. At the time it had seemed easier to just go, and avoid all that emotional stuff. He realized that he had made a mistake in not making an effort. The whole thing seemed unfinished. He wished that he could have been the type of person who could vocalize how much his former team mates actually meant to him. His team mates. His own personal Xena and Conan. He liked having them to look out for him. He had liked that a lot.

He forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. He rearranged the boxes and opened the ones he wanted. Within half an hour he had a box packed with clothes and the other personal items he wanted.

Before he rolled the door back down his eyes scanned the room one last time. His treasured possessions, too numerous to be allowed to be taken to Atlantis. No, not all bad to be back.

Of course there was one thing missing. He wondered if there was any chance of getting his cat back. He imagined what his new life would be like. Lying on his sofa contentedly after a challengingly busy day heading up the scientists at Area 51, with maybe a pizza and a new DVD box set ordered from Amazon, and his little feline pal curled up beside him. See? Life could be good again. Atlantis? What Atlantis?

Yeah, right. He could only take his Pollyanna impression so far and that image was definitely pushing it.

Rodney walked to the car loaned out from Nellis Air force base. He put the box in the back seat and got in, turning on the engine. He had a plane to catch.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rodney walked up to his apartment door trying to juggle his overnight bag, the box of personal items he had picked up from the storage facility, as well as a bundle of mail and his keys. At least it was a ground floor apartment and he didn't have to tackle any stairs. He opened the door and stepped inside, putting down his bag and the box, closing the door behind him.

He walked over to the kitchen area and put his keys and mail on the counter, and grabbed a soda out of the cooler. He sat down on one of the bar stools by the counter and opened the bottle of soda. He took a sip and placed it on the counter, picking up his mail. He was surprised to get any mail, since he had only been here a few days. The apartment had been rented for him by the SGC, they were sure rolling out the red carpet this time round.

He flicked through the mail. Most of it was advertising flyers. Two were letters addressed to the occupier saying he had won something. He put those on the pile of junk mail. One was addressed to him personally. He slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter. The message was typed in large bold font.

**McKay**

**Don't assume that everyone is happy to see you. You weren't up to the job last time, don't embarrass yourself by stuffing up again, or you might find yourself in Russia permanently this time.**

**You are a self-promoting arrogant man who has no talent for science and you alienate everyone around you. No wonder you are alone and friendless.**

**Leave now – you are unwanted.**

**Concerned co-worker**

Rodney stared at the letter in shock. He pulled his mouth into a grim line. He crumpled up the letter and the envelope and got up, throwing the paper into the garbage. He didn't know who this idiot was, but he wasn't going to let some imbecile with a brain the size of a sub-atomic particle get to him. To hell with the bastard, it wasn't like he wasn't used to people's scorn. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Rodney walked over and picked up his overnight bag, muttering the whole time, "… world is full of imbeciles… takes more than a single-celled idiot with an ability to type to get to me!

Nope, something so silly wasn't going to get to him. He would change and see what he could find to watch on TV, and relax, maybe with a hot drink and some snacks.

He looked at the time. It wasn't too late to make a phone call. He might try Sheppard and Elizabeth again. See, he did have friends.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rodney woke to the sound of the phone ringing. He reached blindly for the phone on the nightstand as he tried to focus his eyes.

"Hello?"

"Doctor McKay?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is Alistair McGovern, I am the manager of the Keep-it-Safe storage facility here in Nevada."

"Yeah?"

"You have a storage room here with us."

"Yes. Is that why you rang? I'm aware of that already," Rodney said gruffly as he pushed himself up so he was leaning against the headboard.

The voice hesitated.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

"Bad news? Have you rung me at," Rodney squinted at the digital clock by the bed, "at eight o'clock in the morning to tell me your charges have risen again?"

"No, sir. I'm very sorry to inform you that there was an incident here last night."

"An incident? What?"

"Arson. The facility was broken into last night. Someone opened your storage room and set a fire. I'm afraid the damage was extensive."

Rodney felt himself go cold. "How much was damaged."

"I'm sorry to say everything. The firefighters investigating the incident say that a propellant was used. Everything was destroyed. I'm very sorry, sir."

Rodney didn't know what to say. "I guess you didn't live up to your name."

There was a pause and the sound of a throat being cleared, then, "A full report of the incident will be forwarded to you for insurance purposes. Please give us a call if there is anything we can do. I'm sorry again, sir. This is the only time anything like this has ever happened at this facility."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better."

"I'm sorry, sir. If there is anything we can do just call."

"Is there really nothing that could be salvaged? Maybe I should come and have a look."

"I'm really sorry, sir. There is really nothing to see, it's all gone. I'm really sorry," McGovern repeated, "Please call if there is anything else I can do."

The line went dead. Rodney hung up and stared at the phone in his lap. All his stuff. Gone. His things were his consolation prize for being forced to come back to Earth. His books, his DVDs, his memories. Gone. He felt like someone had forced all the air out of him – he was deflated. Empty.

He sat propped up in bed for a long while, trying to come to grips with what had happened. He started by feeling shocked, trying to come to terms with what happened. Then he started to think about why it had happened. Was his the only storage room vandalised? Or where a few of them broken into?

He suddenly needed to know. He extricated himself from the duvet, which had managed to wrap itself round his legs, and climbed out of bed. He padded across the carpet barefoot to the chair by the dressing table and grabbed his pants from yesterday. He took his wallet out and riffled through it till he found the number of the storage company.

He walked back to the bed and perched himself on the edge, picked up the phone and dialled, asking for the manager.

"Good morning, Alistair McGovern speaking."

"Hi, this is Doctor McKay, we talked a short while ago."

'Yes, Doctor McKay. How can I help you?"

"I just wanted to ask, were any other storage rooms broken into and damaged?"

"No, sir, just yours."

"I see."

Rodney hung up the phone. He rubbed his eyes, still trying to wake himself up. Why him? Why had his stuff been singled out?

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rodney was forced out of his apartment a short time later having found his coffee supplies sadly lacking. He had showered and dressed and was now out on the hunt for a good cup of coffee. Though not normally the coffee shop and shopping type, his long absence from Earth and a lack of anything productive to do forced him out into the shopping district.

At the back of his mind was also the fact that he was for all intents and purposes now without possessions. While he considered himself a man who didn't dwell on such trivial things, somehow the call this morning had hurt him somewhere deep within his soul. He was determined however that this new setback wasn't going to stop him from his plan, which was to make the best of a bad situation. Those ungrateful Atlantians had forced him out of Atlantis, but he was still Doctor Rodney McKay. Still a genius, still valuable, and he still had ambition. It was simply mind over matter. While he knew that others didn't necessarily think of him as being the most positive of people, he had met adversity before, and had overcome it. This time wasn't going to be any different. Okay, he wasn't normally a fan of the whole Pollyanna thing, but it was that or roll over. Over the last three years he had discovered that he wasn't the type of man to roll over, he was a fighter. Well, of sorts. Maybe not Ronon. Well, maybe mentally Ronon. He allowed himself internal smirk. He was going to try the positive thinking thing, and the most positive thing to do with his day today was shopping. He normally preferred to shop online. However, today browsing round a few DVD and bookshops held a certain appeal.

He spent two hours at the mall and came back to the apartment carrying a large takeout cup of coffee, his third, and two big bags of shopping. He cleared his mail on the way to his apartment. This time there was only one advertising flyer and one, now sadly familiar, letter.

He dropped his purchases by the side of the couch and sat down, placing his coffee on the table. He examined the envelope, it was typed with his name and address on the front. It had a Colorado Springs postmark and nothing else. He slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter. Like before, it was typed in a bold, large font.

**McKay**

**Still haven't got the hint? Get out while you can. There is no room for you and your over-inflated ego here. You are not wanted. People hate and despise you - they were much better off when you were far, far away. Why don't you go find yourself a nice distant place to do something and leave the real work to scientists who actually know what they are doing.**

**From a better man than you.**

McKay put the letter down on the coffee table. He was at a loss as to what to do. This was getting ridiculous. Should he find out who this psycho was? How could he do that?

McKay felt a fresh sense of determination as he reached for the phone and dialled the SGC, waiting for them to answer.

"Yes, hello, Colonel Sheppard, please."

"I'm afraid the Colonel is not available," said the voice at the other end of the phone. "Would you like to leave a message?"

"Err, yes, please ask him to call Dr McKay as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you."

Maybe Sheppard was off world. Rodney dialled again and waited for Sheppard's cell phone automated message service to kick in. He was about to leave a message when suddenly he didn't know what to say. 'Someone is sending me threatening letters?' somehow that sounded a bit petty and childish. Yes, even for him. He hung up.

He wasn't going to let this jerk get to him. He had more than earned his status and respect, and he certainly wasn't some insecure teen who would let a couple of stupid letters get under his skin.

He decided to forget about it. He pulled up his shopping bags and laid out his purchases on the table. He had managed to replace a few books and DVDs he had lost in the fire. Others he would have to track down online. He tried not to think about the items that couldn't be replaced. He'd also gotten a few new things that had caught his eye, including a cool-looking computer game, but as he surveyed his new possessions, he felt oddly empty.

Rodney thought about the recent calls he had made to Sheppard and Elizabeth. He knew no one was deliberately avoiding him, it was just that they had full lives to go back to, and he, well, he had nothing. There was a reason why he could go to another galaxy without so much as a backward look over his shoulder. He had an empty life here. His real life had been in Atlantis, it was full, challenging and exciting. He had been valued, and for the first time in his life he felt as though he belonged. He was like a normal person, a person with friends who seemed to like him.

He was really missing that feeling of belonging. Time spent with Sheppard or Carson or his team, just shooting the breeze, talking nonsense and laughing about nothing. God, he missed them, and all the books and DVDs in the world didn't come close to replacing his real home and family on Atlantis.

He was sick of trying to be cheerful and look on the bright side. Fuck Pollyanna.

After a few more minutes of sitting on the couch he decided he needed to take charge of his life again. Rodney decided to accept the job at Area 51. The sooner he got back into working again, the better he would feel. It was the best offer he was going to get. He pulled out his laptop and started to compose an e-mail formally accepting the position. Of course he had a few stipulations he needed to make, and it was lunchtime before he finished and pressed send.

He got up and stretched, easing out the kinks in his back. He went into the kitchen to look for some food. Nothing. He wished he had thought to buy something when he was out earlier. He remembered passing a deli about a block and a half over. Rodney made sure he had his wallet and keys and headed out the door.

He decided on a sub filled with just about everything the deli had – he had really missed Earth food. He got a big bottle of Coke and took the food back to the apartment to eat. He turned the key in the lock and stepped inside the room. He stood on something that crinkled beneath his shoe and looked down. It was a letter.

He bent down and picked it up. He went to the kitchen and sat down on a bar stool, depositing his lunch on the counter. He looked at the envelope. He was beginning to hate mail. His name was typed on the envelope. No sender details. No postmark. It must have been hand delivered. He ripped it open. Same bold, large font.

**McKay**

**You still here? Probably think you are untouchable, right? You are as stupid as I thought. If you don't leave Colorado you will end up as burnt as your precious boxes. **

**I burnt your useless junk. And if you even think about going to Nevada you will meet the same fiery end.**

**Firestarter**

Rodney felt bewildered. Who could have done this? He wandered back to the living area, running his hands through his hair. What was going on? He sat down on the couch, and stared into space. He had come across a fair bit of dislike, hatred even, previously in his life, but never anything like this.

He refused to be victimized. Something had to be done, and now. He called Sheppard's cell.

"Sheppard, it's Rodney. Please call me as soon as you can. Some idiot has started a campaign to get me out of the SGC. Apparently they think they will achieve this by sending me childish, threatening letters and destroying my property. I'm not really sure what to do or whom I should talk to about this. Call me as soon as you can."

Okay, what next?

Wait for Sheppard to call back?

Wait, what the heck was he doing? He had to learn to stand alone again. He needed to be in control, remember? He had to talk to Stargate Command. He needed to speak to Landry. There was no other option. He pulled out his phone again and dialled the SGC.

"General Landry, please."

"May I say who is calling, sir?"

"It's Doctor McKay."

"One moment please."

Rodney was put on hold for a moment. This was more like it, the General would sort this out.

"Doctor McKay, General Landry is not available at the moment. May I give him a message?"

Damn.

"Err, when will he be available?"

"I will put you through to his aide."

There was a pause.

"Sergeant Harriman."

"Hello. It's Doctor McKay here. I wanted to speak with General Landry."

"He is in a meeting right now, sir. Would you like to make an appointment?"

Rodney thought about it. It would get him out of this place, and it might be better face-to-face. "Can I see him today?"

"How is 1600?" Harriman asked.

"Yes, that's fine." Rodney hung up and looked at his watch. Three hours to kill, now what was he going to do with his time?

In the end he ate his lunch and watched one of this new DVDs on his laptop. It was one that Sheppard had recommended. The Princess Bride. It was a completely ridiculous movie. But it did make him smile. Inconceivable.

By the time the movie was over it was time to go and see Landry. Rodney got into the car and drove to Cheyenne Mountain. He arrived exactly at four, and after the normal formalities, found himself sitting in the General's office.

The General leaned back in his chair.

"Doctor McKay, what can I do for you? Did you want to talk about the job offer?"

"Actually, I sent them an e-mail confirming my acceptance, with a few stipulations of course."

Landry smiled. "Of course. I'm sure they can sort out the finer points. I'm glad you decided to accept." He paused. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but if that's not the reason for your visit, what is?"

Rodney felt uncomfortable, not sure where to start. He lifted his chin and decided to come straight to the point.

"I've been receiving threatening letters and I've reason to suspect someone has deliberately destroyed my property."

The General sat up straighter. "I suggest you start at the beginning, Doctor McKay."

Rodney told Landry what had happened while the General listened patiently, asking questions to clarify a few points. Finally Rodney took the letters he had received and placed them on the General's desk, flattening them out with his hands.

Landry took them and read them carefully. He finally looked up.

"I can assure you, Doctor McKay, that we will get to the bottom of this. The air force doesn't take kindly to someone threatening its employees. I will take personal charge of the investigation. I met with Doctor Jacobson earlier today. I trust you have met him?"

Rodney nodded. Jacobson was the acting head of the scientific department out at Area 51; he had met him just yesterday.

"I think he should still be around, he wasn't going back to Nevada till later on tonight. I'll call him back in. He can take charge of the investigation through Area 51."

Rodney nodded, relieved that the General was taking this so seriously.

"Are you okay about going back to the apartment?" Landry asked "We could sort out alternative accommodation for you."

Rodney stood up and held his head up high. "I'm more than capable of looking after myself. I think I have proved that."

"Indeed you have Doctor McKay. In any case, this individual, however sick and misguided hasn't shown any indication of hurting you personally. In my experience people like this are too cowardly to take direct action."

Rodney nodded. "You'll let me know what you find out?"

"Of course, and obviously you will let us know if there are any further communications from this individual?" asked Landry, nodding in the direction of the letters on the desk.

Rodney nodded again. "Thank you, General."

"You're welcome, Doctor McKay."

Rodney left Stargate Command and drove back to his apartment. He stopped for a pizza – pepperoni with extra onions. He arrived back at the apartment feeling a hundred times better. The General would sort out this mess. However, as soon as he got through the door, any feelings of contentment vanished.

There was a message waiting for him, but there was no letter this time. This time the message was in red paint and was sprayed all over the wall above the sofa.

'_If you go to Nevada you will die.'_

Rodney's mouth opened in shock. He slowly walked across the room and stood staring at the wall, the pizza forgotten and held at a haphazard angle in his hand.

It was someone at Area 51. My god, who would hate him so much?

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rodney opened the box of the now cold pizza and surveyed the scrambled contents. Truth be told, he was having trouble coming to terms with the ugliness of the situation he found himself in. He was no stranger to politicking and backstabbing, but this was in an altogether different league, and a very unpleasant one.

He had rung the General to let him know the latest. The General had been in a meeting with Doctor Jacobson and was sending him round. That was thirty minutes ago. Rodney had spent the majority of that time staring at the wall. He sighed and closed the lid of the pizza box. This was a rare occasion when food really wasn't going to do it for him.

Rodney looked up as there was a knock on his door. He went to answer it and found Doctor Jacobson on his doorstep carrying a cardboard tray with two paper cups.

"Doctor McKay, I believe the SGC told you I would be coming by?"

"Yes, yes. Come in."

Jacobson walked into the room. He looked at the red writing on the wall and made a whistling sound. "General Landry briefed me but it's another thing to see it for myself. I'm so sorry, Doctor McKay, this must be devastating for you."

Rodney's mouth set in a grim line. "You have no idea."

"Maybe not, but I can imagine. I've also seen a copy of the letters you received and together with this," Jacobson waved at the wall, "I can understand why you think the perpetrator is from Area 51, but I'm finding it hard to believe that anyone on my staff is capable of or has the desire to do this. Would you mind if I asked you some questions?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, I expected that you would. But apart from the notes and messages, I'm as clueless as the next person. I don't know why anyone would hate me this much. I know I'm not the always the nicest person, but-"

"Stop right there, Doctor McKay. This is about some person's sick mind. Not about you. How about we sit down and you can run through the events since you arrived back." Jacobson nodded in the direction of the sofa and offered the tray of drinks. "I have coffee."

"Ah, sure."

The two men settled themselves and began to talk.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Jacobson was okay, thought Rodney. He was very obviously disgusted by the actions of the person who held a grudge against Rodney and was quite frank about his opinion. He sincerely promised to get to the bottom of the matter.

They had spent a long time going over what had happened but after a while the conversation drifted to work. The men were now sitting in the living area chatting about some of the projects currently being undertaken at Area 51.

"Well, Schuster thinks he can replicate the trial using the naquadah deposits found on PX830, that should boost the generator's power by another twenty percent," Jacobson stated.

"Yeah, and pigs might fly. Schuster needs to look at his analysis again. I only looked at it briefly and I could tell he hadn't allowed for the drift of particles caused by the reaction. The man doesn't know what he's doing."

Jacobson frowned. "Actually, I think Schuster is a good man. I think he does know what he's doing."

"Well if he trying to total half of Area 51 with a really big explosion, then yes, he knows what he's doing." Rodney shook his head in irritation. "Things may need to change when I come aboard."

"So you will be starting as you had planned? This business hasn't put you off?" Jacobson inquired.

Rodney looked Jacobson in the eye. "I don't know what you have heard about me. Plenty, I'm sure, and I'm betting it includes stories of how paranoid I am about my safety."

Jacobson held out his hands palms up. "No, no, Doctor McKay-"

"I know, Jacobson." Rodney said angrily. "I know what people say, and yes, maybe there is some truth in it, or there used to be. But I've faced death, and if I can survive the Wraith then I can survive some idiot at Area 51 who think he can scare me off with a temper tantrum in my apartment and a few rather clichéd and overly dramatic messages."

"I see. Yes, maybe you're not the man people think you are."

Rodney nodded, frowning. "Yes, thank you. I think."

Jacobson smiled, getting up and moving to the kitchenette. "I could do with another drink, have you got anything here? One for the road. Then I'd better go, it's getting very late."

"Yes, there's some soda in the cooler." Rodney started to get up, but Jacobson waved him down.

"I'll get it, no problem." Jacobson grabbed a couple of glasses and poured the soda. Rodney looked at his watch. Surprised to see that it was past eleven, he stood up, stretching. "I've got it, no problem," Jacobson repeated.

Rodney pointed towards the bathroom. "Nature calls." Jacobson nodded his understanding.

When Rodney came out, Jacobson was back on the sofa with the soda on the coffee table.

Rodney picked up the glass. "Thanks."

"At least some of us at Area 51 know what we're doing."

Rodney grimaced and took a long swig of the soda. He really needed to learn not to piss off the locals. Doctor Jacobson seemed nice enough. Maybe he should make more of an effort, after all he would be working with him at Area 51 shortly.

Rodney lowered the glass. "I'm sorry, Doctor Jacobson, I didn't mean to talk ill of one of your colleagues, it's just his analysis. I mean, did you even look at it?"

Okay, he wasn't very good at being diplomatic. Oh well.

He took another drink, thinking about what he should say.

"So you plan a few shake-ups when you take over the role of Head Scientific Advisor at Area 51?" Jacobson asked. "I would really appreciate your honesty."

"Honestly? Yes, I do. I think we could get a lot more done if we reassign some of the projects. And quite frankly some of the reports coming out require a hell of a lot more scrutiny. How they pass by their supposed superiors is beyond me. Do they even get read?"

"So, I'm not doing my job properly either?" Jacobson sounded pissed.

Rodney took a gulp of soda looking down at the glass in surprise to see only a mouthful remained.

"No, I didn't mean... Well, I didn't mean to say you-"

"Don't worry, Doctor McKay. I know exactly what you were trying to say. You were trying to say that you know better than me. That you would do a better job as CSA than me. You plan to have me demoted to some mindless project while you keep all the interesting ones to yourself. But you have a surprise coming because from now on you are going to do exactly what I say. To the letter. Stand up, Doctor McKay!"

Rodney found himself on his feet without knowing how he had gotten there. He tried to figure out what was happening but his mind suddenly seemed muddy and slow.

"Wha..wha..is-"

"Quiet!" ordered Jacobson.

Rodney's mouth snapped shut.

"You are going to do exactly what I say. Turn around."

Rodney did as he was told. It was as if he was no longer in control of his body. He wanted to shake his head. He wanted to tell Jacobson exactly what he thought of him but his body refused to obey him. It only obeyed Jacobson. Rodney's mind screamed at him in frustration, but there was nothing he could do.

He felt his wrists being tied behind him. It felt like rope, it hurt.

"Go to the door."

Rodney walked to the door and stopped in front of it.

"Good." Rodney's eyes remained staring at the door, but he caught sight of Jacobson's hand in his peripheral vision as he turned off the lights. Jacobson opened the door.

"Step outside."

Rodney walked forward then stopped, standing outside his apartment. He heard his front door close behind him.

Jacobson came and stood by his side. "I want you to walk to my car."

Rodney turned slightly and saw the outline of a car parked in the driveway in the dark, its nose pointing out towards the street. He knew that he should be panicking but he couldn't make his mind do more than feebly protest.

He walked over to the car, praying that someone would walk past. His immediate neighbours couldn't see him past the bushes and tress, but someone walking past on the sidewalk would. But nobody came.

"Go stand by the trunk."

Rodney did as he was asked. Jacobson unlocked the car. He reached in and popped the trunk. The globe normally inside the truck had obviously been taken out, as it was dark inside. Jacobson came to stand beside Rodney.

"Get in the trunk."

Rodney mind screamed in response and he used every ounce of will he had to stop himself getting into the car.

"Now," ordered Jacobson again in a quiet but firm voice.

Rodney couldn't stop himself and he awkwardly hooked his leg into the truck. Jacobson grabbed his arm and helped him in. It was hard going with his hands tied behind his back but eventually Rodney found himself lying on his side scrunched up in the trunk of the car.

Jacobson took some more rope out of his pocket and leaning into the trunk, threaded the rope between and around Rodney's ankles. He pulled and knotted the rope tightly then stood back.

"Comfy?" asked Jacobson with a sneer.

"No," replied Rodney solemnly.

Jacobson looked shocked for a moment then smiled. "Of course I asked a direct question. I thought for a moment that the Richta was wearing off already." Jacobson leaning in towards Rodney. "I want you to keep still and quiet. The Richta will probably wear off in about an hour, until then you are not to move a muscle."

The last thing Rodney saw before the trunk closed and he was enveloped in darkness, was Jacobson's smiling face.

He heard the engine start and the car bumped its way out of the driveway and onto the street, speeding up as it hit the open road.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Here is the next part -

**John **

John Sheppard munched a spoonful of Cheerios and considered his options. He missed Cheerios while he was away in the Pegasus Galaxy; there were definitely some benefits to being back. Unfortunately, there were also a lot of drawbacks.

The dinner rush had come and gone in the mess hall. There were still a few people here and there having coffee and pie, but they were gradually drifting out to their offices, labs or beds. As far as John was concerned, however, it was morning. They'd been forced to stay overnight on their mission to PX463 and had headed back to the Stargate in the morning. Of course it was night time here at Stargate Command, so while everyone else was going to sleep, John was wide awake.

Which is why he was considering his options. He was staying on the base at the moment, so his choices were limited. He could try and sleep or go to his office and write up the mission report, wouldn't that be interesting? – a totally yawn-worthy mission, checking out a planet to see whether the Ori were preaching there. The lead checked out, but they were under orders not to engage the enemy and had to camp overnight till the coast was clear and they could dial home.

John decided on the office, he'd write the report, maybe play a game of spider solitaire or something and try to get at least a couple of hours of sleep so that he could face the next day. And jetlaggers thought they had it bad. They should try gatelag.

John finished off his Cheerios and headed to his office. He was surprised he had scored such a large office; it was as big as the General's. It was certainly good to have especially since he was living on base at the moment. He hadn't had much of an office in Atlantis, in fact he hardly used it. Here he was a little fish in a big pond but ended up with a large office. Funny how life worked, especially in the military.

He was surprised how much he missed being top dog. He wouldn't have thought he would really want or be into having that much responsibility. After all he was quite happy flying helicopters in Antarctica. But to be honest, it grew on him. He had done much more than he'd ever thought he'd been capable of while he had been at Atlantis, and he had enjoyed it – well, most of it.

General Landry was being very nice to him, but he wasn't sure how he felt about being under someone else's direct command again. Not that he had a choice.

John entered his office and went and sat down at his desk. Right, time to sort out this mission report. He spotted his cell phone on the desk and turned it back on. He was about to start the report when the phone beeped to let him know he had a message. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers to listen to the message.

'_Sheppard, it's Rodney. Please call me as soon as you can. Some idiot has started a campaign to get me out of the SGC. Apparently they think they will achieve this by sending me childish threatening letters and destroying my property. I'm not really sure what to do or whom I should talk to about this. Call me as soon as you can.'_

John looked at his watch and frowned. It was 2320. The message had been left this afternoon. Okay, so it probably wasn't urgent anymore, and it was a bit late to call Rodney. However, it didn't feel right to do nothing.

He stood up. It was unlikely the General would be around, but someone else might know what was going on. Rodney sounded worried and upset. Maybe he'd tried to contact the General.

On his way to the General's office, John thought about what Rodney had said in his message. Was this a matter of Rodney overreacting about something? Maybe someone had been less than friendly to Rodney and Rodney had put two and two together and ended up with 3.14159. On second thoughts, Rodney might sometimes stretch the truth, but it was still the truth nevertheless.

As expected the General's office was deserted. John's next port of call was the control room. He saw a major he recognised and went over to him. It was a long shot, but worth a try.

"Hey, Norton."

Sir," Norton replied crisply.

"I'm wondering if you heard anything about some trouble Doctor McKay is having?"

"Yes, sir. Major Farrell is in charge of that investigation here at the SGC."

John was surprised. "Do you know anything more about it?"

"No, sir, my orders are to contact Major Farrell if required while I am on duty. He's at home at the moment. Do you need me to contact him for you, sir?"

"No, Major, thank you. Have a good night."

"Thank you, sir."

John left the control room and headed back to his office. The whole thing was probably nothing. Mind you, the General had seen it fit to appoint a Major in charge of the investigation, so it probably wasn't nothing. Damn it, he was going to call Rodney. Hopefully, if he was asleep he had the phone off.

John rang Rodney's cell phone number, he heard it ring a few times, then Rodney's cell answering service picked it up.

"McKay, its Sheppard here. I only arrived back at the SGC tonight so only just got your message, give me a call to let me know what is going on."

John hung up. Now what? He looked at his watch again, 0010. As much as he kept telling himself that this whole thing was nothing – his spidey sense was tingling.

He picked up the phone on his desk. There were a few advantages to rank, and he was going to use one now. He dialled the switchboard and asked to be put though to Major Farrell. A few moments later and he was talking to a very sleepy sounding major.

"Sorry if I woke you, Major," said John, aware that he didn't sound particularly sorry.

"No problem, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I'm calling about Doctor McKay. Do you know what is going on? I've been told that you are leading the investigation."

If Farrell was annoyed at being called in the middle of the night he was enough of a military man not to show it. "Yes, sir, I am, at least here at the SGC. Doctor Jacobson is in charge of looking into the matter at Area 51."

John frowned. "Area 51? Someone from Area 51 is causing McKay problems?"

"That's what the evidence would suggest. Yes, sir."

"What evidence is that?"

Farrell hesitated.

Time to pull rank. "I have full clearance, Major, and I am Doctor McKay's friend. If you want me to drag General Landry out of bed so he can call you and tell you to talk to me then that can be arranged."

Farrell sounded nervous as he made a little sound clearing his throat.

"No, sir, that won't be necessary."

"Good, now fill me in."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Rodney**

Rodney spent a long time staring into the dark, repeating the same mantra in his head over and over again. 'Wide open fields, wide open fields, wide open fields,' trying to calm the building panic in his mind.

He was terrified. Trapped not only in this tiny space but also within his own body. He couldn't move, despite the ache in his muscles from holding the same position for too long. He wanted to move so badly, his body screaming at him, but his limbs refused to obey.

Jacobson had obviously lifted this charming party drug from the research labs at Area 51. When Rodney was in charge he was going to have a very serious talk about the security measures in the facility. If he ever got there, that is.

At the moment Rodney would settle for being able to move. It felt as though he was paralysed, except he could feel his body – his increasingly sore body - just not move it. The only thing he could do, was think, and think he did. His mind was racing.

He couldn't quite believe what was happening. Why would Jacobson hate him so much that he would do this to him? He knew he wasn't exactly a poster boy for congeniality but was he so bad that he deserved this? Who would threaten and try to terrorize someone because they were going to take their job? Jacobson was only acting head, he knew he wasn't staying in the job. Or maybe he had hoped he would. But, really, destroying a person's personal possessions, spray painting threats on his wall, drugging and kidnapping him? Rodney felt as though he had inadvertently walked into some weird psycho horror movie. Jacobson obviously had some pretty major mental health issues, the man was a psychopathic loon. Rodney had to hand it to him though. He'd sure fooled people into thinking he wasn't. Rodney had liked the man. Heck, even General Landry had talked warmly about the guy. It was the height of irony that they had charged the psycho with the job of finding the psycho. Perfect. Just perfect.

Would people know he had been kidnapped? When would they realize he was missing? Who was supposed to contact him tomorrow? Rodney had heard his cell ring earlier. If he could only move, maybe he could get his hands free and reach the phone. Maybe someone like the General would call him and then be concerned when he couldn't get hold of him. Sheppard, maybe Sheppard would call. He wondered why Sheppard hadn't returned his call. Busy probably. But he would have thought his message warranted a call. Maybe he hadn't checked his messages on his cell? He was bound to call if he checked his messages, right? When would that be? Maybe that had been Sheppard calling earlier?

Damn it, rescue wasn't coming any time soon.

Rodney's mind kept going over the same things again and again. He tried to keep focusing his thoughts so that he wouldn't give into the feelings of total panic that were lying just beneath the surface. Time seemed to stretch out and it felt like an eternity before finally he was able to move, although it was probably only an hour, like Jacobson had said. When the drug he had been given wore off and he could finally move, he shifted around trying, and failing, to get more comfortable. It wasn't much of an improvement. He was not a small man, but he doubted that the trunk could even have held a small man comfortably.

He wriggled his wrists and hands trying to loosen the rope restraining them, but they had been bound tightly. He could feel the rope biting into his skin. They were so tight that he wasn't able to shift his hands enough to reach for the knots with his fingers. He had pins and needles in his fingers and he tried to wiggle them as much as possible trying to keep the blood circulating, but he got the feeling he was wasting his time.

He tried calling out to Jacobson, or anyone, to let him out, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of the car's engine. As his voice began to get tired he saved calling out for when the car came to a stop, presumably at traffic lights and intersections when it was quieter, but they were few and far between. The car felt like it was moving fast, Rodney got the impression that they must be travelling along an interstate route.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**John**

John finished his coffee and put the empty cup back in the cup holder in the car. He was just turning into Rodney's street. It was 0730, nearly a decent hour to drop in on someone. He had called Rodney on his cell again at 0700 but this time it went straight to messagebank.

He was feeling concerned. He kept telling himself that it was probably nothing – but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was hinky. When Farrell had told him what had happened he had to admit that he had been shocked. After all the stuff that they had been through when they were in the Pegasus Galaxy, you would think that things would be safe here on Earth – apparently shit followed you wherever you went. Rodney might not be on his team anymore, but old habits were hard to break and anyone who messed with Rodney was also messing with him.

John pulled up outside Rodney's ground floor apartment. There was a car parked outside, presumably Rodney's. It was still covered with dew, so it had been there a while. John walked past, putting his hand on the hood. Cold. Rodney must be home.

John knocked on the front door and waited. Nothing. He waited a couple of minutes then knocked again, louder. Still nothing.

Okay, Spidey sense definitely tingling now. Ten minutes later he returned with the apartment manager in tow. Yep, sometimes it was good to have clout.

He entered the apartment with the manager behind him. They both stopped just over the threshold. The manager gasped as they both looked at the red writing scrawled on the wall above the sofa.

John turned around and herded the man out of the apartment. "Air Force business. We will compensate you for any damage."

A few moments later he was alone. He quickly assessed the scene. Two discarded paper coffee cups, two glasses, one empty, and one full. He walked around the apartment. The bed was made, the apartment empty. He found a small bunch of keys on the counter. He picked them up and slid a key into the lock of the apartment door, operating the lock. Rodney's keys. Not good. His eyes strayed back to the words on the wall. Farrell had told John about the writing Rodney had found on his wall, but it was another thing to see it. The message was filled with hate. That was loud and clear. What had Rodney felt when he had seen it? Definitely not good.

Okay, so Rodney had a visitor last night. Who? Time to touch base with Farrell again. John rang the SGC and managed to get hold of Major Farrell.

"Colonel Sheppard. What can I do for you?"

"Major Farrell. Can you tell me, do you know if Doctor McKay had a visitor yesterday?"

Farrell paused, "Yes, sir. Doctor Jacobson from Area 51 was dropping by Doctor McKay's apartment on the way back to Area 51 yesterday – it would have been late afternoon or evening."

"Do you have his contact number?"

"Yes, sir."

John noted down the number.

"Okay, thank you, Major."

"Sir."

John hung up and dialled the number Farrell had given him and got the Area 51 call center.

"Doctor Jacobson, please."

"I'm sorry, sir, Doctor Jacobson is not available. Can I take a message?"

"This is Lt. Colonel John Sheppard from Stargate Command. Is Doctor Jacobson at the base."

"No, Colonel, he was due back last night but he hasn't arrived back as yet."

"Does he have an assistant you can put me through to?"

"That's Doctor Hawkins, one moment please, I'll put you through."

There was a pause then another voice came over the phone.

"Colonel Sheppard, you are looking for Doctor Jacobson?"

"Yes, I am, are you able to help me?"

"No, sir, Doctor Jacobson was due back last night but we haven't heard from him."

"Have you tried his cell?"

"Yes, we tried it this morning, but it's turned off."

This was getting more mysterious. Rodney and this guy Jacobson were missing? Time to call in the cavalry. He thanked Hawkins and hung up. His next call was to the SGC.

"General Landry, please. Colonel Sheppard calling."

"Yes, Colonel."

Pause.

Then the general's voice came on the line. "Colonel Sheppard, I hear you're scientist hunting. Any luck?"

"General, I'm at Doctor McKay's apartment and I'm afraid there is no good news. He's missing, and according to Area 51, Doctor Jacobson is missing too. They aren't answering their cell phones. I think Jacobson was here, there are two coffee cups here."

"Any idea on where they might be?"

"No, sir. Rodney's car is out front, but no sign of Doctor Jacobson's. That might be the place to start."

"Good idea, come back to base, Colonel, we will re-group and see what we have."

"Yes, sir."

John put the cell in his pocket and headed out of Rodney's apartment, making his way back to the SGC.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Rodney**

Rodney had no way of judging the passing of time. It had been dark when he was forced into the trunk but as day broke tiny slivers of light could be seen through holes the size of pinpricks dotted in the seams of the trunk.

Initially he had been thankful for the light, as dim as it was, but then gradually it had become hotter and hotter until it was unbearable as the car was driven in what was presumably a nice warm summer day and the sun heated the metal of the car. He became soaked with sweat in the heat, his clothes were heavy and wet against this skin. The air around him felt hot and stifling and he found his breath coming in sharp pants as he fought to get enough oxygen. He felt as though he was being smothered and tried very hard not to listen to the loud voice in his head telling him that he was going to run out of air in this coffin-like space. He continued to struggle unsuccessfully against the restraints around his wrists and ankles, and time became meaningless as he was carried against his will to an unknown destination.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**John**

John had headed back to the SGC and spent the next few hours getting exactly nowhere with Farrell. Doctor Jacobson's car had not turned up at Paterson Air Force Base for his flight to back to Nevada.

They alerted local authorities both in Colorado and Nevada to be on the look out for the missing scientists. However when the call did come in, it came from neither state –but rather Kansas, Wichita – to be exact.

Doctor Jacobson had been admitted to Francis Hospital earlier in the afternoon. He had been picked up by local police wandering dazed by the roadside, a victim of an apparent carjacking. Details were a bit sketchy and they were waiting for the doctor's okay to question him further.

John double-timed it to General Landry's office with the news. He needed to go to Wichita and now. Luckily Landry agreed, and within the hour Farrell and John were in a helicopter on their way to Kansas.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Rodney **

Rodney always suspected that he would meet a sticky end. One where his own body gave up on him in a dark and enclosed space. His previous fears didn't seem too silly now, if those who had mocked him when he verbalized his fears of confinement were here now they would finally understand.

He had been lying in the trunk for hours, being bounced and bumped around as the car continued on its journey. The only positive note was that at least he didn't need to use the bathroom – although a voice in the back of his head told him that that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Finally the car came to a halt after particularly bumpy stretch of road. Rodney could hear the driver's door open then shut, there was some sort of a bang then everything went quiet.

"Jacobson! Let me out! Let me out, damn you! Jacobson! Anyone! Can anyone hear me?" Rodney yelled as loudly as he could, his voice weak with overuse and dryness, but was only met with silence.

He wondered if it was night-time now. There was no longer any light coming in through the tiny holes in the metal. So the car was either undercover or it was night. The car hadn't moved for a while and he could hear clicks as the metal started to cool around him.

He was extremely uncomfortable. His muscles felt so sore; his shoulders were killing him, after being held in an unnatural position for so long. His body begged for release from its cramped and confined position. His calf muscle went into spasm and he couldn't help but close his eyes and let out a sob in response as he rode it out. He had been getting increasingly bad cramps in his arms and legs, which were becoming excruciatingly painful.

He was feeling very tired. He lay with his face resting on the floor of the trunk, his mouth open as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest - it was as if he could hear it thumping, the noise filling his ears in the quiet. He was feeling terrible. He had been thirsty for so long, his mouth felt dry and his tongue felt swollen and alien in his mouth. It was cooler in the car now, but his skin still felt hot and his clothes had long dried.

He had the headache from hell. He was still trying to come to terms to what had happened. But it was getting increasingly harder to think. The whole thing was like a bad dream. A nightmare.

He had been unhappy returning to Earth after being forced out of Atlantis by the returning Ancients. He had been upset and wondered why crappy things kept happening to him. Why he wasn't allowed to be happy?

He remembered one particular night he spent sleepless in his apartment staring at his ceiling. He had given into weakness in the early hours of the morning and spoke to the empty room. 'What next? What else can you possibly do to me?' Now he had his answer. He had challenged fate. What had he been thinking?

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for possible gross errors with geography – I live in NZ and got my knowledge of this part of the States from MapQuest – please try and overlook it if I've made major boo boos.

**John**

The flight out to Wichita felt like a long one. John's mounting concern for Rodney was playing havoc with his nerves. He tried to calm himself - both he and Rodney had been in dire straits before and had made it out. No worries. He just needed to think positive.

His eyes drifted over to the pilot and he allowed his mind to wander. Being the passenger didn't suit John, his body itched to take control of the helicopter, rules be damned, it just didn't feel right not to fly. It had been so long since he had flown a helicopter that he was practically nostalgic. Sure, a puddle jumper was essentially a space ship and one hell of a cool ride, but those dampeners tended to take the edge off. There was something pure and good about feeling your ride respond to your commands, to feel it dip and sway. Once Rodney was found safe and sound and things were back to normal, he just had to get some time in the air.

When John and Farrell got to the hospital they found that General Landry had rung ahead and smoothed things out with the local police. Luckily 'national security' was something the local law enforcement respected.

They got the okay from Doctor Jacobson's doctor to question the man and entered his room. Jacobson looked pale, his face was scratched down one side and raw looking. However his eyes were clear and he looked expectantly at the air force officers entering the room.

"Doctor Jacobson?" Farrell enquired.

The pale man nodded.

Since Farrell was officially heading the inquiry John let him do the introductions.

"I'm Major Farrell and this is Lt. Colonel Sheppard, we have been looking into the disappearance of you and Doctor McKay. We are both relieved that you are okay. We need to ask you some questions about what happened."

Jacobson nodded again.

Farrell and John pulled up chairs and settled themselves by the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Farrell asked.

John counted to ten. He wasn't sure he could do the slow and easy approach.

"Not too bad. A bit groggy - they think I might have concussion."

Farrell nodded. "I need to ask you about what happened."

"Was McKay with you?" John had never been all that great at patience.

Jacobson nodded. "I went to see him at his place about the investigation. We started chatting and decided to go out and grab a bite to eat. We were just getting into my car when these two guys appeared from nowhere and shoved a gun in our faces." Jacobson's eyes widened as he recounted the frightening event. "They sat in the back and told me to drive. I drove for hours with a gun to my head. We tried to find out what they wanted but they wouldn't talk. Just told us to shut up and drive."

"All the way to Wichita?" asked Farrell incredulously.

"Yes," Jacobson replied.

"Do you think it had something to do with the threats McKay had been getting?" asked John.

"Could be. I don't know for sure, like I said they weren't exactly talkative. They didn't seem to like Doctor McKay very much, but that could have been due to his manner."

"His manner?" Farrell looked confused.

"Well, he didn't take kindly to the whole carjacking thing." Jacobson explained.

John couldn't suppress his smile. Yep, that was Rodney.

"So how did you get away?" Farrell asked.

"I didn't. They let me go." He paused and took a deep breath. "It was morning, we were travelling down a deserted road when they told me to stop the car. I think they had decided that it was time to get rid of us. They got us to stand by the side of the road. Doctor McKay- well, Doctor McKay was being difficult and argumentative. One of the men finally had enough and completely snapped. He shoved the gun in Doctor McKay's face and told him that he was all talk and no guts. Told him that if he was so unhappy he should be a man and take charge, then he put the gun in Doctor McKay's hand." Jacobson paused again.

Farrell looked surprised. "What did Doctor McKay do?"

"Nothing. He just stood there staring at the gun in his hand. After a moment the guy took the gun back. He was laughing. He told McKay that was the difference between a scientist and a man of action like himself."

"So he knew Doctor McKay was a scientist?" Farrell perked up, no doubt hoping that he was onto something.

"McKay had told him earlier."

"Ah." Farrell looked disappointed.

"McKay just held the gun and did nothing?" John was trying to picture the scene.

"Yes. He was frightened. I'm not really sure McKay even knew how to use the gun. I think he was relieved in a way when the man took the gun back. The man was right, we are scientists. We're not soldiers like you."

Farrell nodded in agreement and Jacobson smiled. "I know that Doctor McKay went on a few missions in the Pegasus Galaxy, and talking to him you would think that he held his own alongside trained soldiers, but really, I think it was just talk. I hope you will forgive me saying this, but McKay likes to blow his own trumpet, but when it came down to it he couldn't pull it off. I'm a scientist. I know my own limitations, staying compliant and calm was the best move in that situation, which is probably why I'm here and Doctor McKay is not."

John felt a shiver of cold at that last sentence. What the hell had happened to McKay? He was just about to ask when Farrell repeated his earlier question.

"So how did you get away?"

"Like I said, they let me go. Just told me to start walking. When I asked about Doctor McKay they said they had plans for him. I did object to that. That's when I got this." Jacobson pointed at his face. "It's a bit hazy after that, but the last I saw of Doctor McKay he was being pushed into the trunk of the car and then it was driven away. I was left lying on the side of the road. I think I must have passed out or something because the next thing I remember was waking up here."

"The trunk?" John couldn't keep the shock out of his voice.

"Yes." Jacobson was grim. "He didn't look all that happy about it, but he was pretty docile at that stage. I think he had finally figured out who was boss. I'm sorry; I think that's all I can tell you. I can try to give you a description of the men – but it's all a bit hazy. They were pretty normal-looking really – no tattoos or anything."

Just then a nurse entered the room carrying a tray. As she spied Farrell and John she looked surprised.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had visitors. I'll just leave this tray here. Hopefully you can handle a light meal." She was about to leave when she paused looking at Jacobson with a frown. "I'm sorry, but don't I know you?"

"I don't think so." Jacobson answered gruffly, shifting his position on the bed.

The nurse picked up his chart. "Thomas Jacobson, yes." She looked at the two visitors blushing slightly. "You must think me terribly rude. I'm so sorry. But I don't see many people from my little corner of the world." She looked at Jacobson. "It's Amy Miller. Do remember me? We used to go to school together."

"I think you're mistaken." If at all possible Jacobson was looking even paler than before, it looked as though recounting his ordeal had really shaken him.

Farrell looked a bit put out. "Ma'am, we are in the middle of something here."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The nurse turned an interesting shade of beetroot and left hurriedly.

John stared at the door as it shut behind the nurse lost in thought while Farrell noted down the descriptions of Jacobson's assailants. He could hear the descriptions in the background, one short man, the other medium height, both with brown hair, white, average builds, no distinguishing features, accents or anything else helpful. Somehow that didn't surprise him.

Rodney knew how to handle a gun, if he had a way to protect himself and Jacobson, wouldn't he use it? Rodney may act like a coward some of the time, but in reality he was far from it. John was having a hard time picturing the scenario Jacobson had described. As for getting into a trunk meekly? Really? Rodney was claustrophobic, he'd never go into a trunk without a fight, he'd be kicking and screaming the whole way. As for the nurse – what was with that?

John was still frowning when Farrell led the way out of the room.

"Basically we have squat. There's an alert out for the car – really that's all we've to go on." Farrell shrugged and gave John a sympathetic look. "Guess that's it."

John looked back grimly. "Not quite, I want to talk to his doctor."

"Why?" asked Farrell looking puzzled, then added an afterthought, "Sir."

"Just a hunch. Bear with me."

They managed to catch the doctor at the nurses' station.

"Can we ask you a few questions?"

The doctor looked up from the chart he was reading. "Sure, anything I can do to help."

"Thank you. I was just curious about Doctor Jacobson's injuries. How's he doing?"

"He should be fine, we're just keeping him overnight for observation."

"So that graze on his face and the concussion. Those were the only injuries?"

"Yes, he was lucky by the sounds of it."

"Concussion bad?"

"Doesn't seem to be – he was suffering from considerable confusion and grogginess before, but his pupil reactions were good, the MRI was clear, there's no swelling, not even a bump."

"Is that normal?"

"Not normal, but certainly not unprecedented, head injury is a funny thing. Different people are affected in different ways."

"It was definitely concussion?"

The doctor frowned. "You think it wasn't? He said he hit his head, he apparently lost consciousness for a while, he seemed woozy and confused, which is certainly consistent, and complained of nausea. Have you reason to believe it was something else?"

"No," John hesitated. "Any chance he could be faking it?"

Farrell and the Doctor both looked at John, startled.

The doctor frowned again and was silent for a moment, apparently thinking. "It's certainly possible, but unlikely. Why would he do that?"

John shook his head. "It's probably nothing. Just need to look at every possibility."

The doctor looked relieved, "Right. Well if you will excuse me I have patients that need my attention."

"Sure, thank you for your help." John gave him a tight smile.

"May I ask, sir, where you are going with this?" asked Farrell as they walked away from the nurses' station.

"Just a moment." John pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialled the SGC. He needed to speak to Landry.

"Any luck?" asked Landry on the other end of the line. "Is Doctor Jacobson okay?"

"Yes, sir, he's fine," replied John. "However, I need some information about him. Do you know where he grew up?"

There was a moment's pause at the other end. "What? Why do you need to know that?"

"Any chance you could humor me, Sir?" John asked hopefully.

"I don't know where he grew up. I'd need to check his personnel file. I'll look it up and let you know. I take it this is urgent?"

"It's the only thing I have, sir, and I think McKay is running out of time."

"Okay, Colonel. I'll get back to you in a few minutes."

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it."

The line went dead, and John put the cell back in his pocket. He shook his head at Farrell, who was looking at him questioningly.

"When I hear from General Landry, I'll come clean. Let's sit and wait."

"I can guess, sir. But with respect, sir, I think you're way off."

"Wouldn't be the first time. But at the moment, my hunch is all I have."

The pair sat on the hard seats in the corridor of the hospital and waited. True to his word, General Landry rang back within five minutes.

"I had a look for you and Doctor Jacobson is a small town boy, was raised in a place called Saxman, Kansas. Now you going to tell me what's on your mind, Colonel?"

"Sir, I don't think Doctor Jacobson is on the level."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I think he knows where Rodney is, and he may have put him there."

General Landry was silent for a moment. "That's a serious allegation, Colonel Sheppard. I hope you can back it up."

"Not yet, but I will."

"Colonel, Doctor Jacobson is a trusted and respected member of the Stargate Program, you need have more on your side than a hunch. You need to be very careful of how you tread here, Colonel. I think that maybe you should report back here and we can decide how to handle this situation."

"I'm sorry, sir, you are breaking up. I'll call you from a land line."

John hung up and turned the phone off, placing it in his pocket.

"Sir?" Farrell asked.

"Go wait outside, Major. I need to sort out a couple of things. I'll join you shortly, and have the helicopter standing by."

"Yes, sir."

John nodded to Farrell, thankful that, unlike him, Farrell was an officer who understood the chain of command. John turned and walked back to the nurses' station, He needed a conversation with a certain nurse.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Rodney**

Rodney didn't know how long he had been laying there, trapped like he was in some sort of suspended animation while the world presumably went on around him. He lay quietly with his eyes closed in the dark. He was shaking - he didn't know whether it was fear or something else. He had been without food for too long. He recognized the lethargy and the fog that was beginning to cloud his thinking. He was running out of energy.

He opened his eyes again, trying to make out shapes in the dark. He didn't want to die in this terrible place, alone and forgotten. He ignored his sore wrists and ankles as he started wrestling with the restraints again, pushing his feet against the side of the truck, futilely trying to straighten his legs.

The enclosed space and darkness seemed to be smothering him. He couldn't breathe. The panic that he had been holding at bay for so very long rose up and overwhelmed him. He was very aware of the moment when he lost his mind. He was aware that he was surrendering to fear and terror, aware that once he allowed himself to give up he might never be able to claw his way back to the light, to the rational world, to sanity. But after tottering on the brink for so long it was really only a matter of time before he let go.

He had called out before, hoping to be heard, yelled even, in his desperation, until his voice had begun to get hoarse. But now he screamed, ignoring the soreness in his throat, screamed in terror and horror as he thrashed his body around in the small space. He could no longer feel the pain of his aching muscles or the rope around his wrists and ankles. He allowed the fear to completely take over his mind. He lost control as he hit the metal with his feet, his knees, his shoulders, any part of his body that he could use to hammer and bang the inside of the trunk. Time lost meaning as he was caught in a whirlpool of panic, there was no room, no escape as he spun in a sea of terror, until finally his mind, his precious brilliant mind, withdrew into itself to hide from the torment and only a shell remained.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**John**

John stepped into the room quietly, closing the door behind him and turning the lock. Jacobson was sitting up, his legs dangling off the bed, his back to John. He was looking out the window, but he turned his head as he heard John enter the room.

"Colonel Sheppard. More questions for me?"

John walked around the bed to stand in front of Jacobson. "You could say that, yes."

"I don't know what else I can tell you."

"How about the truth?"

A shadow seemed to pass over Jacobson's face. "What do you mean? I don't think I like your tone,: he said indignantly.

"I mean you haven't been telling the truth. What did you do to McKay?"

Jacobson shook his head, as if he were trying to dislodge a few drops of water. "You're way off base here, Colonel Sheppard."

"I don't think so, Jacobson."

"It's Doctor Jacobson to you, and I refuse to be bullied by you. I think General Landry would like to know that one of his subordinates is threatening one of his best scientists. Do you know who I am, Colonel?"

"Yes, you're a liar. You have done something to my friend and I want to know what, and where he is. What was the matter? McKay's intellect too scary for you? He was going to take your position at Area 51, wasn't he? You didn't want that, so you tried to scare him off." John laughed humorlessly. "That went surprisingly badly, didn't it? McKay has faced off worse threats than you, Jacobson. So you had to take more direct action, but you made a mistake. Actually no, you made a whole bunch of mistakes. Including two whoppers. One, I know Rodney. He was on my team at Atlantis, I know how he reacts in dangerous situations, and the man you described is not Rodney. He would have used that gun, and not so much to protect himself, but to protect you!" John ground his teeth together as he tried to contain his anger. "He is more a man than you could ever be, Jacobson. God help me if you have hurt him-"

John paused and took a breath. "As for your second gargantuan mistake, you rushed it, you didn't think it through. You came home for Christ sake! What were you thinking?"

Jacobson had gone an ugly shade of red. He shook slightly with rage as he spoke. "Colonel, I'm going to have you kicked out of the Air Force, how does a dishonorable discharge sound?"

John moved so fast Jacobson didn't even have time to blink. John grabbed the smaller man by the neck and put all his weight behind his action. Jacobson was forced onto the bed, his bare knees pulled up as his head was pressed down onto the mattress. John leaned in close to Jacobson's face, not letting up the pressure around the man's neck.

"Listen up, Jacobson. You are a little weasel, you no-good fucker. Tell me where McKay is and now. This is my friend we are talking about. You think I care about my job? You think it's more important to me than my friend? I'm not like you, you prick. I'm going to hurt you unless you tell me what I want to know."

Jacobson made a choking noise - his eyes were wide and bulging as he tried to breathe through the intense pressure around his throat.

John maintained the pressure as he continued, "You thought you could hide your crime by bringing McKay here, by hiding him in the perfect place where you thought no one would ever find him. Somewhere you remembered from your past. You faked being a victim, and it was all going so well till that nurse recognized you. You're busted, Jacobson. God help me, if you have killed Rodney, I'm going to kill you."

John took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I'm going to let you speak now. I want to know exactly where McKay is. Exactly. If anything else comes out of your mouth I will hurt you. Do you understand?"

John could feel Jacobson try to nod under his hand.

"Okay, your chance to do the right thing."

John released the pressure on Jacobson's neck, keeping his hand there so that the man understood that he would shut off the air again if Jacobson tried anything.

Tears had started to run down Jacobson's face. His voice was rough and cracked as he spoke. "Near Sterling, turn left off the main road, just after Harvey's Hardware Store, go down five miles, turn into Turner's Road, about two miles in, there's a dirt road to the right. There's an old abandoned barn, he's inside, in the trunk of the car."

John kept staring at the man, as he processed what he had been told. The bastard had abandoned Rodney in the trunk of a car. Left him to die.

"Was he alive?" John held his breath as he waited for Jacobson to reply.

"He was when I left him. I don't know about now."

"How long has he been in the trunk?"

"Since Colorado. About 11pm last night."

Shit. "Okay, you're going to stay here. You'd better spend your time praying for Rodney. Your survival depends on his."

Jacobson was still and quiet as his wide-eyed gaze followed John out of the room.

John stood outside Jacobson's closed door. He called over one of the nurses. "Call security. I want guards on this door. Doctor Jacobson is under the custody of the US Military. There will be someone sent to take him into custody."

"What's going on?" The doctor from earlier had obviously overheard and came over. "What's happening with my patient?"

"Jacobson is fine. He was faking his injuries. He kidnapped another scientist -" John paused, trying to control his feelings of rage. "Doctor, how long can a person survive locked in a truck of a car?"

The doctor looked shocked. "Well, it would depend on the temperature, model of car, air tightness etc. I'd say he'd be okay for about 12 hours, after that it's anyone's guess. I'd put survival about seventeen hours, dehydration a big factor, especially in this weather. How long has he been in there?"

John looked at his watch. 1638 hours. "Too long."

John left the doctor standing there as he ran out of the building.

TBC…

Only one more part to go….


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for your patience! Here it is, the last part – hope you like.

Part 4

They were flying over Kansas farmland. Nothing but flat fields and an occasional scattering of buildings as far as the eye could see. The helicopter dropped altitude as they approached the target area. John anxiously scanned the ground looking for the barn Jacobson had described. John had talked briefly to General Landry informing him of the situation. Landry's tone promised of one hell of a dressing down, or worse, but true to the man's character, he had not used the opportunity to berate his subordinate, instead the conversation focused on finding McKay. A medical unit had been dispatched. John just hoped they wouldn't be needed. It took all of John's optimism to quell the negative voice in his head telling him he was too late.

"There it is!" Farrell called out, directing the pilot.

John leaned sideways to see out of the window. It was the only structure standing for what looked like miles. As they descended further he could see that it was very old, and it was a dark rusty colour, which perhaps at one point had been red. John willed the pilot to fly faster, fighting against the urge to pull the man out of his seat and fly the damn thing himself.

John opened the door before the helicopter had even landed, jumping out as soon as it touched down. He sprinted to the barn door and wrestled with removing the large piece of wood wedging the door closed.

The door creaked open and allowed in the soft rays of the summer evening sun. In the dim light, John could see the car. It was so quiet in the barn it was hard to imagine that anyone else was here, anyone alive, that is.

John reached the driver's door of the car and flung it open, grabbing for the trunk release lever. He popped open the trunk and went round to the back of the car.

"Jesus, Rodney."

John stood for a moment, taking in the sight of Rodney as the stench of sweat and fear wafted up from the trunk.

Rodney was lying squashed in the trunk in a curled up position. His legs were tied together with rope, his pants torn where he had struggled against his bonds, it looked like his hands were tied behind his back. His clothes clung to his body. There was no movement apart from the panting of his breaths, his panting breathing that was way too fast and labored to be normal. But that wasn't what made John catch his breath. Rodney's eyes were wide open and staring straight in front of him. If not for the breathing belaying the fact, he looked dead. His eyes were wide and spoke of unspeakable horror.

Farrell reached the car, and John heard him gasp as he saw Rodney.

John didn't spare Farrell a glance. "Help me get him out of here."

John looked over at the pilot standing by the open barn door. "I need something to cut the rope with." The pilot stared at him. "Now! Damn it!" John yelled. The pilot turned and ran.

John gripped Rodney's shoulders while Farrell grabbed his legs.

"Okay, on three. One, two, three!" They both lifted Rodney out of the trunk and placed him on the dirt floor.

John placed his fingers on Rodney's neck, checking his pulse. It was fast and weak.

He cupped his hand on Rodney's face, trying to get Rodney to look at him. "McKay, can you hear me? You're scaring me here. Come on, Rodney, don't do this."

Rodney continued to stare blankly into space, unseeing, his breath continuing to come in pants.

The pilot rushed over with a small knife and knelt down, cutting the rope around Rodney's legs.

They then maneuvered Rodney over to get to his hands.

"Holy shit!" Farrell exclaimed, shocked.

Rodney's wrists were a mess. The rope had cut through the skin and his wrists and hands were covered in blood.

"Shit is right," John said grimly. He grabbed the knife from the pilot and started cutting at the rope. It took a few minutes longer than it should have, as the rope was coated in blood and partially embedded in the swollen skin.

Once the rope was off, they turned Rodney again.

"What's wrong with him?" asked the pilot.

John rubbed at his face feeling frustrated and helpless. "The doctor at the hospital said dehydration." He pulled Rodney's shirt away from the skin. It had obviously been wet with sweat but had dried, clinging to his body. "I'd add hypoglycemia and shock. Rodney doesn't like closed-in spaces."

"He looks catatonic," Farrell pinched Rodney's skin then released it, "and severely dehydrated." He turned to the pilot. "Ellis, go check on the status of the med evac unit, we need it here yesterday, and grab the first aid kit."

The pilot nodded. "Yes, sir."

John looked at Farrell. "You have medical training?"

"Some. Not enough for this. This is totally out of my league."

John turned back to Rodney; he spoke in a calm voice. "Hey buddy, can you hear me? We got you. It's going to be okay now, Rodney. You're safe. Its okay, Rodney. It's Sheppard. I got ya, buddy."

Ellis, the pilot, arrived back and crouched on the floor with the first aid kit. "ETA on the med evac unit is twenty minutes."

"Okay, we can't do much for him here, but we can start to prepare him for transport, that should save us some time when the paramedics arrive. His wrists are still bleeding a bit. Let's clean and bandage them. At least that's something."

John nodded agreement. Doing something rather than nothing was always good in his book.

Farrell worked on Rodney with Ellis helping. John continued to talk to Rodney.

"Hold on, Rodney. We're going to get you out of here now. We're going to take you to a nice comfortable infirmary bed. Lots of nice drugs to make you feel better. Just hold on, you have to hold on. We have you now. Everything will be fine now. Do you hear me, buddy?"

Rodney's eyes slowly drifted shut.

"Rodney." John tapped Rodney's face - his head rolled to the side. "Rodney!" Nothing.

Then suddenly Rodney's body started shuddering. John looked at the unconscious man in horror. "What's happening?"

"He looks like he's having a seizure," Farrell answered.

Rodney's body convulsed out of control for a few moments, then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Rodney stilled.

Farrell checked Rodney's neck for a pulse while John grabbed his wrist to do the same. "Hold on, McKay. You need to hold on."

Rodney's panting breaths began to slow, stuttering in their frequency.

"Crap, Rodney! I told you to hold on!" John was now practically yelling.

"I think I can hear the med evac unit," Ellis said standing up. "I'll go check."

John looked up. He could hear the helicopter coming. He locked eyes with Farrell, understanding passing between the two men. This was going to be close.

Rodney gave a shuddering outward breath, and then there was silence.

"No." John felt for a pulse. Nothing. "No!"

"CPR, come on, sir, the medics are almost here." Farrell moved to breathe for Rodney but John got there first, opening Rodney's mouth and blowing in air. Farrell started counting out as he started compressions. It wasn't long before the med evac team entered the barn. They pulled John away as they placed a mask with a bag over Rodney's mouth and pushed oxygen into his lungs.

"I have a pulse," someone called out.

Relief flooded through John. Rodney was alive.

The next few minutes were a blur to John. He stood by and nervously ran his hand through his hair as the medics worked furiously assessing and treating Rodney, and getting him ready for transport. Farrell took responsibility for briefing the paramedics as to Rodney's condition, something John was grateful for.

As they loaded him onto the gurney to take him out to the helicopter, John grabbed one of the medics. "How is he doing?"

"It's not good, sir, but we'll do our best for him."

John used all the authority he could muster in his voice. "Give it to me straight."

"Well, sir, his blood pressure is practically non-existent and he's deeply unconscious. At the moment he's circling the drain. We need to get him to an ICU ASAP."

"Then you'd better go," John said grimly.

He stood for a moment staring after the retreating medical team then felt a hand on his back.

"Come on, sir. Let's get moving."

John turned to Farrell and nodded. "Let's go, Major."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The flight back to the SGC seemed to take forever. It was the General's call to bring Rodney back to Cheyenne Mountain. John felt the man needed to contain the situation – Doctor Jacobson was also being taken to the SGC.

As they flew they could see the med evac unit ahead of them. John found it difficult to watch without knowing what was going on inside the other helicopter. It took all his willpower to force his mind to stay positive and not conjure up images of Rodney flat-lining. Hypoglycemia – you needed glucose for that right? Dehydration – saline. He would be okay. The catatonic stuff could be sorted later – Rodney's mind was still there, it just needed coaxing out. It would all be fine. If they had got to him in time. Please let them have got to him in time.

Circling the drain. Fuck.

After what seemed like an eternity the helicopter landed. They were already unloading Rodney's gurney and all the paraphernalia that came with it. John ducked as he got out, the downdraft forcing him to a slower pace than he wanted. He caught up to the others but got no more than a glimpse of his friend as the medical team entered the building. They rushed through the corridors with John in their wake. Someone was holding the elevator open for them and the team rolled the gurney inside.

One of the men held out his arm, stopping John from following them, a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry, sir. You will have to catch the next one."

John looked at the man pumping air into Rodney's mouth as the doors slid closed.

He closed his eyes, feeling frustrated and powerless.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

John stretched, trying to unkink his back. One of the nurses had brought him a padded chair, which was more comfortable than the hard plastic one that had become home for his backside more hours than he cared to recall, but sitting still for so long was hard on his body.

Rodney was going to live. It was going to take a while for his body to recover from the trauma it had been through – but he was going to pull through. John felt like he had aged ten years while the doctors had worked on Rodney, trying to pull him back from the brink of death – but in the end they had succeeded.

John's eyes roamed over Rodney's body for what felt like the hundredth time. Rodney was hooked up to less than he was before, but there was still a lot of equipment attached to him. John took in the wires and tubes that assessed Rodney's condition and provided sustenance and medicine. His eyes lingered on the bandaged and splinted wrists.

Doctor Lam had said that in addition to the burns and cuts Rodney had on his wrists, he also had stress factures due to struggling with the ropes binding his wrists. She had said that Rodney's hypoglycemia had become serious due to the compounding effects of dehydration and that hypoglycemia could cause combative behaviour, which may have made him fight his bonds despite the pain it must have caused. She was grim when she added that an extreme state of panic could also have resulted in the same thing.

John shook his head slightly as he thought about what his friend must have gone through in the truck of that car. He knew that Rodney tended towards claustrophobia; being shut in a car trunk for hours would freak anyone out, let alone someone with claustrophobia.

John looked at Rodney's face, the normally expressive features slack in sleep, well, unconsciousness to be exact. He wondered how long Rodney would carry the scars of being locked in that truck in his head, and in his soul. It should never have happened. They were on Earth, damn it! Why did the crap follow them home? John shrugged internally. Well, crap wasn't exclusively the property of the Pegasus Galaxy, he of all people knew that.

John sighed as he thought about the thing he had left for last in his latest assessment of his friend's condition. Possible brain damage, from the extreme dehydration and hypoglycemia.

It was unthinkable, Rodney with brain damage. His brain was how he defined himself, his most precious asset. Rodney's mind was an amazing thing. Not that John would ever say so to his face of course.

They weren't going to be able to check for brain damage properly until Rodney woke up, and he was sure taking his sweet time doing so. Until then all John could do was wait and endure the meaningless well wishes of the people around him.

Yes Rodney was going to live, and for that John was profoundly grateful, but John couldn't help wondering that if Rodney were brain damaged, would he want to be alive?

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

John almost missed it when Rodney's eyes did open. John looked up from the magazine he was flicking through to see Rodney's eyes open and staring.

"McKay."

John dropped the magazine and shuffled forward in his chair.

"McKay."

No response. John pushed the call button, and then tried again.

"Rodney, can you hear me?"

Still nothing. Silence and McKay just didn't go together. Come to think of it nor did stillness and McKay.

John stood up and shook Rodney's shoulder gently.

"Rodney, can you hear me?"

John watched as Rodney's eyes slid shut again just as the nurse arrived.

As he heard her come up behind him, John spoke over his shoulder.

"He was awake. At least, his eyes were open."

She came over and checked the monitors, "I'll go let the doctor know."

She disappeared, leaving John alone with Rodney again.

John sat back down in his chair, disappointed. Well, that was a bit of an anti-climax, he thought. He picked his magazine up but couldn't quite bring himself to start reading it again.

He sighed again, and waited for the doctor.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The doctor said that all the sleeping Rodney was doing was normal. After all, his body had been through the wringer. But the time Rodney was awake was not normal. He stared into space, completely unresponsive. The words 'psychological trauma' were bandied about, along with 'unknown brain damage.'

All John knew was that this silent and still person wasn't Rodney. Rodney was still lost in the trunk of that car and John had no idea of how to reach him and bring him back. He had plenty of time to think about it, sitting in that chair, but now time was running out. Landry had kindly given John time off – but had started to talk about putting him back on active duty. Psychiatrists had been consulted, but as yet no one had managed to communicate with Rodney. John did the only thing he could do – he talked. He talked to Rodney about Atlantis, about past missions, about Teyla, Ronon, Carson and Elizabeth.

Landry dropped by from time to time, Elizabeth had also made a fleeting visit. They both wished Rodney well and asked him to come back to them. So far nothing had helped.

John was in the middle of yet another mind-numbing monologue when a hand tapped his shoulder.

"Hello, Colonel."

John grinned as he turned towards the familiar voice.

"Hey, Carson. I wasn't expecting you back yet."

"Well, I heard about Rodney." Carson looked serious. "I cut my visit short. I had to come to see if I could help."

"Go ahead, Doc. I think we're fresh out of ideas."

Carson pulled up a nearby chair.

"Well, why don't we start by you telling me the whole story?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Rodney, it's safe to come back. Ya friends are here. Colonel Sheppard is here. Aren't you, Colonel?"

"Yes, I'm right here, McKay. It's safe to come back now."

"That's right, you are tucked up safe and sound in the infirmary. Come back to us, Rodney."

They had been at it for hours, trying to reach Rodney in the dark frozen place his mind had gone to. But so far nothing. Why was nothing with Rodney ever easy?

Carson sat back in his chair and locked eyes with John. "Well, that's me out of ideas."

"What do they normally do with people who are catatonic?" asked John.

"Well, in some cases of catatonia, medication, and even electroconvulsive shock therapy have been used with some success, but in this case I don't think it is appropriate. The psychiatrists ruled out anything like that given his current medical condition."

"I should think so," said John with a shudder.

They both sat together in silence for a while lost in their own thoughts. Then John spoke. "I have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"Well, we've tried the reassuring carrot approach. How about the stick?"

"What do you mean?" asked Carson suspiciously.

"We've tried talking to him about normal things and how safe he is, and he is safe, tucked away in his mind. So how about we wake him up by reminding him of where he last was?"

"I don't know about that, Colonel. That could distress him even more."

"And it could wake him up. If his mind is hiding somewhere safe, it has no reason to come back to us."

"I don't think it works like that, Colonel."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," said John.

"Something Rodney might say?"

John nodded. "So we do it. Come on, I'm not going to go overboard. With all this talk of happy times we're denying how he's feeling. Trust me, I know Rodney."

"Okay, Colonel, you can try, but be warned I will stop you if I think you're going too far."

"Fair enough," agreed John. He stood up and moved closer to Rodney. "I know that bastard Jacobson locked you in the trunk, Rodney. He tied you up. You were cramped and you couldn't move. It was dark and it felt like you were running out of air. It was hot and he left you there. You yelled and probably screamed and no one came. You couldn't get free no matter how hard you struggled. You were hurt, you were sick and you couldn't hold on any longer, your pain and your panic took over. I know. Well, Rodney, I met Jacobson. I put my hands around his neck and cut off _his_ air." John ignored Carson's sharp intake of breath from behind him. He had left that little tidbit out of his talk with Carson. "I forced him to tell me where he had left you. I came for you, Rodney. I'm here. I'm going to open the trunk now. You are free."

It was in the category of be careful what you wish for. One moment Rodney was quiet and unresponsive and the next his eyes shot open impossibly wide and full of terror. He catapulted unto a sitting position, his arms swinging and out of control, and started screaming. Not yelling, not calling out, but screaming, the sound ricocheting off the walls and into the hearts of those in the infirmary. It was a noise impossible to endure for long, speaking of horror and fright beyond imagining.

John and Carson were dumbstruck for a moment with shock, and then Carson muttered, "Dear God."

John and Carson tried to grab Rodney before he fell off the bed, trying to capture the flailing arms without being hit. John wrapped his arms around Rodney, attempting to subdue him.

John yelled out, "McKay!" The he changed his tactic, talking in a normal voice right into Rodney's ear. "Rodney, it's okay, it's over. You are safe. It's all over. Got your back, buddy. Everything is fine. Calm down."

Doctor Lam approached the bed, a prepared syringe in hand, Carson's glance at her keeping her at bay.

John kept talking through the screaming as they continue to hold Rodney down. Pressing him back onto the bed. After what seemed like forever, but probably was only a few moments, the struggling became less intense and the screaming gave way to pathetic mewing noises as Rodney panted for breath. Carson let go and grabbed an oxygen mask and put it over Rodney's mouth and nose.

"Easy, lad. Slow deep breaths. It's okay now, Rodney."

John eased his hold on Rodney but only backed off a few inches. He looked directly into Rodney's face. "Can you see me, Rodney?"

Rodney nodded, his eyes still open wide.

John smiled. "Good. Welcome back, McKay. It's all over. You're safe now. You understand?"

Rodney stared at John a few more moments, then nodded again, his body slumping against the bed as the tension leached out of it.

John sighed in relief. "Good. Very good." He perched back on the edge of the bed.

Carson had been busy, checking Rodney's vitals. A nurse handed him a cotton ball and tape to stop the bleeding on Rodney's arm where he had pulled out an IV. Carson applied pressure to the wound as he assessed his patient.

"Rodney, how are you feeling?"

Rodney continued to take panting breaths then raised his free arm and pulled away the oxygen mask. "Confused." His voice sounded cracked and broken.

"That's understandable. Just know you are safe now. Everything is going to be fine."

Rodney nodded, his eyes blinking. "Hurts. Tired." 

"Aye, I'm sure. You can sleep in a minute. I need you to answer a couple of questions first. Can you try for me?"

Rodney paused then nodded again.

"Good lad." Carson looked pleased. "Do you know where you are?"

Rodney looked around. "Infirmary? How did I get here?"

"All in good time. "Can you tell me your full name?"

Rodney frowned. "Rodney McKay."

John couldn't resist. "Really? Your full name? All of it?"

Rodney looked at him in disgust. "Rodney McKay is all you are ever going to get out of me." His voice was hoarse, but the trademark McKay sarcasm had begun to creep in.

John grinned, visibly relaxing. "Now that's the Rodney I know."

Carson continued, "Can you tell me your birth date?"

Rodney's eyes blinked slowly again, his voice was slow and deliberate. "You said a couple of questions, unless there has been a big change in the English language while I have been unconscious that means two. Hold on, I'll save us both some time." He held up his finger and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "Yep, I'm all here. Now if you don't mind, I'm obviously a sick man and I need my sleep." He yawned. "Tired here… very ti…" With that his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing became slow and heavy.

Carson gently placed the oxygen mask back on Rodney's face.

John looked at Carson. "I'm thinking he is fine."

Carson looked directly into John's eyes. "We will still have to test him, but my opinion is that we can rule out brain damage. Thank goodness. But don't kid yourself, Colonel, something like this is hard to get over. He has suffered a significant psychological trauma. We will have to help him work through it. He is not fine, Colonel." Carson smiled. "But I think he will be. I've learnt never to underestimate Rodney."

John returned the smile. "You can't keep the man down for long."

Carson patted Rodney's leg. "I hope not, Colonel. I hope not."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Rodney**

Rodney opened his eyes and immediately looked over at his visitor's chair. It was obviously night-time, as the lights in the infirmary had been dimmed. But he could still see Sheppard clearly. He had a book in his lap and was fast asleep, twisted in the chair with his legs dangling over the arm and his head resting against the padded back of the chair. He looked very uncomfortable.

Every time Rodney had woken he had found either Sheppard or Carson at his side. They were obviously taking shifts. Rodney could never admit to anyone how that made him feel. It caused him pain. Deep in his heart, making his chest feel tight and his eyes prickle from the unshed tears that would embarrass him should they overflow. But it was a pain he could live with, maybe even one day accept. Then perhaps it would feel normal to realize that people cared about him. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt. He didn't really know why it hurt. Perhaps it was just too much emotion, something his soul had been craving for without realizing it. He had enough insight to know that he covered up how he was feeling with abruptness and sarcasm, but he also knew that he wasn't fooling these men, his friends.

They seemed to know that he needed them, and it was true, he did. Particularly when he woke thinking he was still locked up in that trunk. They were there to calm him and to tell him he was safe. And they knew exactly when to lighten the mood when he was fully awake to stop him feeling too humiliated by his own weakness. He was absurdly grateful; he just didn't know how to show it.

Rodney lay in the infirmary bed and let his mind drift over the last few days. It hadn't been an easy time. He hated it when his body betrayed him by being weak - it left him too vulnerable and meant he had to rely on others to help him with the simplest of tasks. He hated it even more when his mind betrayed him as it did when he was asleep by making him think he was still trapped in the car, in that dark tomb, where feelings of panic were like a whirlpool trapping him in its current, sweeping him away, out of control. Amazingly, he was thrown a lifeline every time and pulled back in. He didn't know what would have become of him without John and Carson to guide him back to safe reality. He could feel himself getting better. His body was recovering and he was feeling more in control, and he had his friends to thank for that.

He thought about the visitors he had had in the last few days. Landry had popped by on more than one occasion. He seemed truly horrified by what had happened to Rodney. The General appeared shaken that he had not somehow seen through Jacobson's illusion of sanity. He told Rodney that Jacobson had been judged psychotic and was unlikely to see the light of day for a considerable amount of time. Rodney had to bite back his automatic response to this apparently earth-shattering announcement. Although a mumbled 'ya think?' may have sneaked out under his breath. Landry spent some time talking about the work at Area 51, obviously hoping Rodney was still interested in working there, despite the fact that the staff there were obviously murderous lunatics hell-bent on kidnapping and hurting potential newcomers. Sure, he told the General, no problem.

Rodney smirked to himself.

Elizabeth had dropped by as well, though she seemed more subdued than usual. She appeared genuinely saddened that Rodney had been through such a horrible experience, but she wasn't her normal feisty self. Rodney was going to talk to Carson about her. He had a feeling that she was finding it even harder than the rest of them to let go of Atlantis.

Rodney's mind wandered to a most unlikely visitor he'd had earlier in the day. Woolsey. Woolsey had been on a short visit from Atlantis to brief the IOA in person. He had come saying he felt it was his duty as Rodney was still officially on the IOA payroll. He expressed his disgust at what had happened, and joined Landry in saying that he would do what he could to make sure Jacobson got what he deserved.

Woolsey also expressed his regret at the loss of Atlantis and said he understood how hard it must be for Rodney. Woolsey had compared himself to Rodney, saying he had some understanding of what it must be like to be a person who was used to a safe life in the background and then to suddenly find himself on the front line. He said he had read reports from the SGA and had envied Rodney's ability to successfully make such a transition, and that it would be hard for Rodney to go back to his old life. Rodney had never been much impressed by Woolsey, and he thought the comparison between a bureaucrat like Woolsey and a certified genius like himself was ludicrous. But Woolsey had seemed sincere and, well, he had a point.

Rodney had lived a different life in Atlantis than he had on Earth, he had discovered much about himself, including the fact that he could be more than a scientist tied to a lab whose only close personal relationship was with his CPU. He had found out all he could be in Atlantis, his potential. It was true that life on Earth was going to be hard for a while, maybe a really long while. However, he acknowledged that he had changed while he had lived in Atlantis and was only now realizing that while he might miss the challenge of Atlantis he was never going to go back to being the man he used to be before he went to the Pegasus Galaxy. The change was permanent. And it was a good thing.

Rodney looked at his friend, his unlikely friend, with his hair sticking up in its usual ridiculous fashion, and Rodney allowed himself a smile in the half-light. He might not have Atlantis anymore, and one day maybe he would learn to live with that, but he had to admit that he was a lucky man. After all, not many could boast friends such as his. Jacobson was wrong, Rodney was wanted. Who would have thought? Yes, thought Rodney as he felt the gentle lure of sleep call him once again, he was a lucky man.

**The End**


End file.
